Hardy goes on a lone scout—He encounters a mysterious stranger—And recognizes an enemy—“If you make a sound or signal, you are a dead man”—The ride to the fort and the warning—Hardy reconnoitres the Indian camp—And makes a long ride to bring aid to Bryan’s Station—Girty and his Indians invest the stockade—They plan a stratagem and are caught in their own trap—They attack in force and are repulsed—Relief from Lexington—Girty tries to cajole the garrison—The defenders disregard his threats and promises—“You see this cur? He’s called Simon Girty. We couldn’t think of a better name for him”—The Indians depart as suddenly as they came.

Kenton and Hardy, who for months had been engaged making reconnoissances, accompanying expeditions, and guiding settlers, separated early in August, leaving Boonesborough in different directions. Kenton proposed to range through the country northward to the Ohio, whilst Hardy should strike west until reaching Lexington and Bryan’s, and should scout thence to the river, somewhere upon the southern bank of which the comrades expected to encounter each other in the course of a few weeks. They moved lightly, carrying nothing but their arms and ammunition and a little parched corn in their wallets.

On the morning of the third day after parting with Kenton, Hardy was passing along the timber-covered ridge that formed the eastern boundary of the valley in which lay Bryan’s Station. The surrounding open country had been a favorite resort of buffalo, elk, and other large game, when the first settlers arrived, but these animals were fast disappearing. As the scout’s eyes swept the beautiful panorama that lay spread before them, not a living object presented itself to his observant gaze.

Presently the scout’s ear caught the soft pad of hoofs upon the grassy slope and he turned to see a horseman coming towards him at a lope. As he came nearer, a white man was revealed, mounted upon an unusually fine animal. On reaching the spot where Hardy stood he drew rein and sprang to the ground.

“Hallo, young man! Can you tell me where I am?” cried the stranger.

“You are about three miles from Bryan’s. Where did you want to be?” replied Hardy, a little nettled by something in the other’s manner.

“That’s all right! I am on my way to Bryan’s. Know, the country hereabouts?”

Hardy admitted that he was tolerably well acquainted with it and, in response to the stranger’s gestured invitation, sat down on one end of a fallen tree. The stranger took a seat at the other, with the horse’s bridle over his arm.

“My name’s Beatty. I’m from Pennsylvania. Came in with a train, but they’re about ten miles behind. We think of settling hereabouts.”

Hardy was not entirely satisfied with this statement. Neither the man nor the horse seemed to fit with it. The latter was as fine an animal as Hardy had ever seen in Kentucky and not at all like the kind of beast a settler might be expected to ride. As to the stranger, whilst he wore the usual backwoods costume, it was ornamented with a profusion of beading and feathers such as adorned the dress of Indian chiefs.

Hardy did not betray the uneasiness excited in him by the stranger’s appearance and which increased with closer observation. He cautiously answered the other’s questions whilst closely scrutinizing him. Beatty, as he called himself, was anxious to know the number and distribution of the settlers in that part of Kentucky, and to secure other information such as one contemplating taking up land might naturally desire. Nevertheless, Hardy’s vague suspicion prompted him to return deceptive answers whilst simulating the utmost candor.

Truly the appearance of the professed settler was not such as to inspire confidence. He was an undersized but well-knit man with a small bullet head. Although he had in reality not reached his thirtieth year, the seamed countenance gave the impression of much greater age. It was an evil face. The eyes were black, close set, and snake-like. Their glance was at once furtive and sinister. The swarthy surface of the face was startlingly broken by a broad scar extending from the forehead to the jaw upon the right side. The ears, round and flat, stood out from the head like those of a bat. High cheek-bones flanked a thin aquiline nose, beneath which stretched a straight, almost lipless, mouth.

Hardy was an unusually plucky young man, but he felt cold chills running up and down his spine as he looked at the stranger. From the first moment of their encounter he had been repelled by him and the sensation of distrust and aversion grew with every moment. But more predominant than any other feeling was a sense of having met the man before. This he knew was not the case but still the idea that he had seen this sinister-looking individual somewhere held possession of him. Suddenly the truth flashed upon his mind. He knew the man seated at the other end of the log.

Whilst continuing with apparent frankness to reply to the stranger’s enquiries, Hardy carelessly brought his rifle across his knees and gradually moved it until his hand was upon the trigger and the muzzle pointed at the breast of the man beside him.

“Don’t move!” he said in low but determined tones. “No doubt your Indian friends are within call, but if you make a sound or signal you are a dead man. Sit still! I ought to kill you, Simon Girty, and I believe that I would but that you once saved the life of a friend of mine. I’ll pay that debt, but after this, if ever I get a chance——”

Girty’s hand stole towards his rifle, which rested upon the tree-trunk beside him, but the action did not escape the sharp eye of the scout.

“Stop it!” cried Hardy. “Now understand me. If you try any tricks, I’ll blow the top of your head off without hesitation. It would be my easiest way, anyhow.”

The tone of the scout’s voice and the look in his eyes conveyed to the other an assurance that the threat was no idle one. He sat rigid and listened, as Hardy proceeded.

“Leave your rifle where it is. Get up and lead your horse straight ahead and keep your hand away from your belt. I shall be a yard behind you.”

Girty rose and walked forward as directed. When they had covered about one hundred yards, Hardy took the bridle from the renegade.

“Now walk over to that tree,” said Hardy, keeping the rifle threateningly pointed. “You may be good at throwing the hatchet. A little farther—that’s it. Now, good-by, Girty, for the present.”

With that Hardy sprang upon the back of the horse, dug his heels into its flanks, and dashed off down the slope towards Bryan’s Station.

In a few minutes Hardy reached the fort. He warned the settlers that Girty, doubtless with a large band of redskins at his back, was in the neighborhood. Immediately the place was in the bustle of preparation. Runners were despatched in every direction to bring in the people from the surrounding farms. As many of the cattle and horses as possible were driven into the stockade. The women and girls busied themselves carrying water from the spring. Men hastily inspected the defences and repaired, as well as they could, defective places. At the same time, a mounted messenger was sent to Lexington with the news and a request for aid.

In the meanwhile, Hardy was not idle. He surmised that the main body of the Indians had been some miles behind Girty and he conjectured that, after the incident which has been described, they would enter into one of their protracted powwows before continuing the advance. It was quite probable, therefore, that the attack would be deferred for some hours or until the next day.

These considerations prompted Hardy to make a reconnoissance with a view to ascertaining the strength and composition of the attacking party. The country around Bryan’s was, as has been stated, comparatively open. Hardy believed, with correctness, as the event proved, that the Indians were about seven or eight miles distant. In order to get around to their rear undiscovered it was necessary that he should make a dÉtour of about twelve miles. Fortunately, he had Girty’s particularly fine horse, which was quite fresh.

Early in the afternoon, after making a wide circle, Hardy struck the trail over which the Indians had passed some hours before. He rode forward upon it until he came within a mile of the party. He then tied his horse to a tree and advanced cautiously under cover. As he had anticipated, the redskins had halted and were deliberating a change of plan. Between five and six hundred warriors were present, but the scout was relieved to find that they had no artillery.

Having gained all the information that he sought, Hardy made his way back to the place where he had left his horse and rode away. He reached Bryan’s in the evening and learned that, whilst Indian scouts had been observed in the vicinity, no large body of savages had made its appearance. The little garrison was filled with anxiety on learning the strength of the attackers and began to look eagerly for reinforcements. As soon as Hardy had allowed his horse a few hours’ rest, he started for Boonesborough, fifty-five miles distant, to summon assistance.

Bryan’s Station was a little more than five miles from the larger settlement of Lexington. It was situated on the southern bank of the Elkhorn, one side of the stockade being within a few hundred feet of the river. The fort was formed of two parallel rows of cabins, containing forty in all, connected by strong palisades and reinforced by blockhouses at each end. The garrison consisted of fifty men at this time, besides whom there were at least an equal number of women and children in the place. There was a good supply of ammunition and provisions on hand, and the general conditions favored the ability of settlers to stand a lengthy siege, provided they should not be overwhelmed by weight of numbers.

On the morning following the alarm the scouts from the garrison reported large bodies of the Indians to be in the neighborhood, and the settlers stood to their arms in expectation of the attack. Girty did not disclose the strength of his force, of which he believed the garrison to be in ignorance. Instead, he secreted his main body in some neighboring thickets and attempted a ruse.

A party of about fifty warriors was advanced against the fort with instructions to feign a determined assault but after a while to retreat as though in flight. Girty hoped by this stratagem to induce the defenders to issue in pursuit, when he would advance at the head of four hundred Indians, seize the stockade, and take the settlers in the rear.

Had the garrison not been forewarned by Hardy of the number of the attackers, the plan of the wily renegade might have succeeded. As it was, the settlers suspected the object of the feint and met it with a counter-stratagem. Thirteen active young men were sent out in pursuit of the retiring warriors, whilst the remainder of the garrison stood ready to repel the attack which they expected upon the other side of the stockade.

Girty heard the firing and the designedly loud shouts of the young men as they followed the redskins towards the woods. He supposed that the garrison had left the fort and confidently advanced to the nearest gate, anticipating easy possession. There was nothing in the appearance of the place to undeceive him as he approached, followed by a horde of painted savages. Not a head was visible; not a muzzle showed from port-hole.

The redskins were allowed to advance to within fifty yards of the palisades. Then a staggering fire was poured upon them. They stopped, amazed, and aimlessly discharged their guns in the direction of the fort. The garrison replied with another well-directed fusillade, and as the savages broke and began to run, volley after volley was poured into their panic-stricken ranks.

The thirteen men who had been despatched in pursuit of the former party of Indians, now reËntered the stockade. Their presence was needed, for after a brief interval the main body of the redskins returned in an attack better sustained than their first essay. The onslaught was maintained for several hours with a vigor that taxed the defenders to the utmost. Urged on by Girty and McKee, the redskins rushed upon the stockade again and again. But the garrison always reserved its fire until the assailants were so near that every shot told. Never an Indian passed that fifty-yard line but met his death. Now and again, one, more determined than his fellows, gained to the palisade and clambered upon it, only to be stricken down by the tomahawk of the nearest backwoodsman.

At about one o’clock in the afternoon the redskins withdrew on hearing from their scouts that a reinforcement was approaching. This timely succour consisted of a body of fifty men from Lexington. The force was about equally composed of horsemen and others on foot. When they approached the station, it was agreed that the mounted contingent should keep to the beaten trail and charge through the besiegers, whilst the men on foot should make their way to the fort under cover of some favoring cornfields.

The former party rode through the waiting Indians under a shower of bullets and entered the stockade without the loss of a man. They had succeeded in diverting attention from their companions, who were well hidden by the standing corn and should have arrived at their destination with equal safety. By some mischance, however, they blundered on to the road and were discovered by the savages. Fortunately the fort was near at hand, but in the rush to that refuge six men fell.

This accession to the garrison, indicating as it did that further reinforcements might be looked for ere long, whilst it greatly heartened the defenders had the reverse effect upon the Indians. The chiefs were seriously alarmed, and apprehensive lest the expedition should be cut off from retreat. They were disposed to retire without delay to their own country. However, Girty diverted them from their purpose. He harangued them with the greatest earnestness, urging persistence. He reminded them that it was becoming ever more difficult for them to muster such a force as was present, whilst the whites were constantly growing stronger and more numerous. He warned them that if they forewent this opportunity to drive the Long Knives from the country, another would never present itself. His vindictive eloquence prevailed, and the chiefs agreed once more to place the warriors at his disposal.

The next day Girty endeavored to cajole the garrison into surrender. He had been wounded by a ball in the thigh, and now he crawled to a stump near the stockade under protection of a white flag. Captain Robert Patterson, who had led the reinforcement from Lexington, being the senior officer present, was in command. He went to the gate with others to hear what the renegade had to say.

Girty commenced by expressing his admiration for the splendid defence offered by the garrison. He assured them, however, that further resistance would be worse than useless. He promised, “upon his honor,” to secure the life and safety of every soul in the stockade in case they should capitulate at once. Otherwise, he would abandon them to the fury of the savages. He declared that a large reinforcement of Indians and a detachment of artillery was within a day’s march of his camp, and should it arrive to find the settlers in arms, nothing that he could do would save them from massacre and torture.

Girty demanded an immediate answer to his proposal. Captain Patterson turned on his heel and walked back into the fort without deigning to reply. But a young fellow named Reynolds had something to say to the renegade which sufficiently indicated the temper of the garrison.

“Say, do you see this cur?” cried Reynolds, holding up a wriggling, yelping nondescript by the slack of its neck. “He ain’t fair bird, beast, nor fish. He’s just the meanest, ugliest mongrel that ever walked on four legs. See him, do you? Well, he’s called Simon Girty. We couldn’t think of a better name for him.”

A loud laugh followed Reynolds’ sally and, with derisive gestures towards the discomfited Girty, the settlers moved into the stockade. The renegade crawled away towards the camp of his followers, uttering the most horrible imprecations and threats against the defenders of Bryan’s Station. He was soon to be glutted with revenge.

Captain Patterson and his men were not at all disturbed by Girty’s vauntings. They felt confident of withstanding the present besiegers and were satisfied that the boast of an artillery accession was a lie. In fact, Captain Patterson’s chief anxiety now was lest the Indians should leave before the arrival of the heavy reinforcements which he felt sure were upon their way to Bryan’s. He regretted that he had not parleyed with Girty and feigned uneasiness with regard to his situation and ability to hold out.

The day passed without an attack by the Indians. This did not greatly surprise the garrison, but led them to look for an attack in force under cover of darkness. Patterson kept every man standing at his post throughout the night. From their positions they could see the fires of the Indians about half a mile away, and momentarily expected their advance. But the day dawned without any change having occurred in the situation.

Captain Patterson sent out scouts to reconnoitre. These soon returned to report that the Indians had departed, evidently having taken the great buffalo trace which passed by Ruddle’s and Martin’s and so to the Lower Blue Licks.